My Kryptonite
by Catori Simone Winston
Summary: "Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me?" Sherlock was just going to disappear after the Fall. America sounded nice... Maybe Asia? Anywhere but London. That was until he heard John and he realized, why would he be so willing to leave the one person, who still had faith in him and believed in him? Sherlock realizes, he mustn't flee, he must fight. Could be Pre-JohnLock!


**A/N: FIELD TRIP TIME GUYS! Where are we going? You ask... Sherlock's Mind, of course! xD**

**Kind of a trip into Sherlock's mind... Hopefully all makes sense... Kind of what he is thinking in the last scene where John says, "Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me?"**

**Yeah, that line killed me a bit inside... And Martin Freeman did an amazing job! So, I had to go write a fanfiction. Also, because when the camera comes in closer to Sherlock's (Benedict's) face, his eyes go to the right which normally means you are recalling something. I wanted to know that he was recalling so I made it up. :D YAY!**

**There will be another fan fic to piggy back this one. I want to write a return fic. I'm on a roll right now and am hoping to get some (lots of) writing done tonight...**

**Enjoy!**

**Catori**

**a-writers-moments on Tumblr**

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"You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Umm, there were times I didn't even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man, the most human... human being that I've ever known, and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so there. I was so alone, and I owe you so much. But, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this."

The tears that were threatening to fall down John's face tested his self control. He wanted to protect him, not hurt him… but he had always done the latter with amazing capability, hadn't he? Disappointment, hurt, annoyance… He wondered how John still was his flat mate or… friend. How was it that the soldier still believed in him, even when he didn't himself? He watched as John walked away, his pace determined, his form shaking. John wanted to get out of the cemetery, most likely didn't want anyone to see him cry. Mrs. Hudson was with him, he won't cry until he gets back to Baker Street. He shook his head, why was John so upset? He was just John's flat mate, maybe friend, definitely someone that just provided a bit of excitement in his life… He wasn't anything to mourn at all. He looked over to the right and gently smiled as he remembered the first case he and John were on together, A Study in Pink… Such a simple name. Though when John went with him, even though he warned him it could be dangerous… He quickly capped that like a pipe that was leaking. He couldn't dig up any emotions, as much as he wanted to. He needed to leave, get a new name and just _go_. Get out of London, maybe head for the US and die there. Staying here put John in more danger. There was nothing he could do. He started walking out of the cemetery when another thought stopped him.

John had so much trust in him that John had allowed him to take him as a "hostage". Had run with him. John had always been there for him, and here he was considering which country to go and leave John here.

"_J-just so you're aware, the gun is his idea. I'm just, uh, you know...__ " John said, with Sherlock watching the group in front of him. Suddenly the gun was turned towards John.__  
"__My hostage!" Sherlock said, with the gun still pointed at John.__  
"__"Hostage," yes, that works. That works.__ " John trailed off._

He couldn't just leave John here, in London, without protection. John needed to be protected. Moriarty might have been dead, but that didn't mean the snipers weren't; nor was the rest of his web. He could have just hit himself right then. He couldn't leave John, not his John, alone. He begrudgingly took off in a sprint towards Mycroft's office, knowing that he would need his help. The only thing that made stooping this low, tolerable, was the thought that either way, if he made it out alive or not, he would finish the job and John would be safe. If he died hunting down each member of Moriarty's web then, John would never need to know. If he lived, that created a whole new slue of problems for him to try and figure out; that would be later and counted a whole lot on IF. As he made it up to the door of the office, the thing that propelled him in there was John. John at his grave, what he said: _"__You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Umm, there were times I didn't even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man, the most human... human being that I've ever known, and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so there. I was so alone, and I owe you so much. But, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this"_

John didn't want him dead, and for John he wouldn't be dead. With that he made it into the room, Anthea not even getting a word in edge wise. Mycroft looked up and his eyes grew wide. He knew that Anthea was behind him looking at him, much of the same way as Mycroft was.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft finally choked out. He rolled his eyes impatiently and went to stand behind on of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Yes." Sherlock swallowed, "Mycroft, I need your help." Mycroft stared and Sherlock thought about why he was doing this again. He sighed internally. _Well, John, _He thought, _You always were my kryptonite. _


End file.
